BETTER FOR SEEING YOU
Oh my sweet Nan, how I have struggled to write this letter to you. The loss of you has felt like an ending of so many things. The realization that I was subconsciously clinging to so much of my childhood through your presence, is amplified by our loss. In many ways, it has felt like writing this letter and saying goodbye to you today, is the final page of an incredible life’s story. Nonetheless, it is a book my heart is not ready to close.
My childhood is freckled with stories of ‘Nanny and Grandad’. Sleepovers, and weekend trips to the market. Family barbecues where Grandad would always sneak us a hotdog on a fork while we waited for dinner. Passing notes down the laundry chute. Concerts and root beer at the Ship’s Inn with the organ, ukulele, and banjo all being played out of harmony by little hands. Dollar-lolly for a rainy day. Being too young to appreciate a good cup of tea, but not too young to appreciate the sugar cubes that you’d let us sneak. And if I did decide to entertain a cup, you’d let me look through the tupperware that sat atop your fridge for the digestive cookie with the chocolate on top. The one that would melt when I dipped it in my tea.
A Nanny through and through, you revelled in the role. Always letting us get away with a little extra. Like a glass of orange juice at my bedside when I’d sleepover. Laughing at my moments of mischief, and finding great joy in the times that any of us would act like ‘pea on a drum’. Letting Lisa and I stay up late whispering to each other, and letting Grandad toss us on the beds a little higher each time. I think Mom and Dad can finally laugh about that time you and Grandma took us to the African Lion Safari. We got away with everything… except going to bed without a fresh facecloth.
And oh, how you loved having us girls. Shirley Temples at the Elephant Castle. Shopping trips where Allie would disappear in the center of the coat racks. The Festive Special at Swiss Chalet. Teddy Bear Picnics, and mini-putt in the mall. Fashion shows with all the latest trends that you would bring us home from England. Pink everything.
It only evolved as we grew older. It didn’t matter how late we called, you’d always answer and the girl chat would always last well into the night. You were a sounding board for everything from school worries, to boy problems, to celebrity gossip. From career woes, to wedding bells, to baby joys… you wanted to hear it all. And you listened, exceptionally well. You had a gift for making us all feel heard and understood. I remember one sleepless night in the early days of motherhood, I’d called to voice my worries and you told me ever so sweetly, “Give yourself grace, you two have only just met after all.”
Always with the times, you kept up to date on all the current events. You’d lived through a war, immigrated, had a career, had a family, and built a life for yourself. You figured it all out. The only thing that you ever seemed to struggle to understand was the tv remote. Although I’m not convinced that wasn’t just a ticket to get one of us to come visit you to ‘fix it’, and I admire you for it. All this and yet, you never changed. Your apartment was always flooded with the sound of the easy listening station. Dad’s brass baby shoes on display. A teacup and the newspaper beside your pink chair. Again, pink everything.
What echoes in my mind most when I think of you, was your disposition. You were always wise to the unspoken things. A nod across the dinner table. No one dare try to ‘pull the wool over your eyes’, for your observant nature allowed nothing to pass by unnoticed. You were certain of your principles and the things you believed in, something that resonates deeply with me. Yet, you navigated every scenario with calmness, class, and a kind heart. Never carrying stress, and always moving forward with a certain perseverance that was rooted in a sense of grace. I remember when you and Grandma came to live with us while Allie was in the hospital, doing our hair and taking us to school. What should have been a confusing time for two big sisters, you both somehow managed to make feel like a fun days-long sleepover. It didn’t matter the trials you’d faced or the losses you’d endured, you remained a pillar of gratitude for the lesson learned and a life well-lived.
A life so very well-lived. Incredible stories passed down to us from your impeccable memory. Life as a young girl in England. Travelling. Summers in Beaver Valley and winters in Florida. Countless parties and celebrations, many of which were spent at any one of the bars that existed in the basements of your lifelong friends. But without a doubt, your family was your greatest pride. Seven beautiful babies calling you Great Nanny, your three granddaughters and our ‘hims’, the daughter in-law of your dreams, and your treasured son. All roads always began and ended with your Mike.
Whenever I would see you, we would greet each other with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. In recent years, it often involved me bending down to you and you reaching up for me. Oh what I would give to see your smiling face looking up at me. I would always say some sort of nicety, something along the lines of ‘How are you?” or “It’s good to see you”, to which you would always reply “Better for seeing you, dear.” And that perfectly summarizes you; your greatest joy was found in the company of the ones you loved. It was that simple. 98 years and you had the right idea all along… life really is that simple.
Whether it’s over a pint or a cup of tea, time is made worthwhile when it’s spent with the people we are better for spending it with.
Goodbye my sweet Nanny. My life was truly made so much better for all the time we got to spend with you.
I’ve got my eye on you, please keep yours on me…
